


Eternal and Ephemeral: SasoDei Week 2021

by Clever_Girl_22



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shop Owner, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Baking Chaos, Beauty in the Eye of the Beholder, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, First Time, Gen, Horror, M/M, Mad Artist, Mature Rating for "Adoration" Prompt, Mild Gore, Platonic Relationships, Retcon, Rivals to Lovers, SasoDei Week 2021, Slow Burn, Smut, Temporary Character Death, adoration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29325873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clever_Girl_22/pseuds/Clever_Girl_22
Summary: Happy SasoDei Week 2021; what a wild ride it is to see their passion unveil itself for each other!
Relationships: Deidara/Sasori (Naruto)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26
Collections: SasoDei Week 2021





	1. February 22: The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all already know how I work...one prompt per chapter, folks. I'm so excited to branch out and give these two some unbridled attention! Enjoy ;)
> 
> P.S~ I don't know a damn thing about art (a real tragedy). I tried to brush up on my vocab, but it's subpar at best.

His first mission. If he was being honest, Deidara was only a little nervous; Pein had assigned him and his partner, Sasori, to pair up with Kakuzu and Hidan for a very special assignment: a raid in Takigakure, Kakuzu's homeland. Why, exactly, Sasori and Deidara had been asked to help with this mission, he had no idea, but the chance of blowing someone's shit up was always a tantalizing prospect. And, he could show these idiots just how terrifying he could be in the field.

_'My art is superior to their bullshit, afterall.'_

But before they could get to the Hidden Waterfall, they had to cross through miles upon miles of desert--something Pein saw useful in having the two artists tag along, no doubt. Hidan was complaining about the heat, despite Sasori and Kakuzu's threats, so the journey already was unpleasant from the start. Typical, as always. They had been walking for almost a day now, taking rest only when absolutely necessary, and Deidara was on edge. He wanted to impress his teammates, of course! He wanted to show Pein just how _valuable_ he and his work was, how well he'd thrive in this newfound role of his!

He had heard of the Akatsuki long before he had ever been approached, through the hushed whispers of Onoki and Karatsuchi during family meetings and ceremonies, along with the reputation of his partner. Sasori the Scorpion, Sasori of the Red Sand...a man who had lost his parents to war and had in turn killed the very man who had caused it. That anger, that stone-cold resilience, had been appealing to Deidara. It was what had drawn him to Sasori in the first place.

"Oi, where the fuck are we even heading, hm?" 

Hidan and Kakuzu were busy at each other's throats over a map, while Sasori had stationed himself by a sandridge to clean his equipment. Soon, enough, Deidara would have to provide some sort of flight transportation for the team; the passage between Earth Country and Water Country was deeply choked with tropical forests and would slow their progress by days.

Deidara rolled his eyes, "Hn, are you illiterate? Like, is that your trick? You just _dull_ the ever-living _fuck_ out of people before you kill them?"

This earned the artist a grunt of laughter from Kakuzu (which was praise all on its own) and some threats from Hidan, all to which Deidara countered without mercy. Hidan might be good company in the future, but he needed to know his place... _he_ was still the newbie, and Deidara wasn't going to let him forget that just yet. Sasori nodded along, but Deidara knew he wasn't listening--Sasori was in his own little world, tinkering away when all the terrorist wanted was his attention.

 _'But soon enough, I'll get it,'_ Deidara mused, _'I just need the right angle. The right moment to capture it.'_

************

Another hour later and the entire world was desert, sand stretching across the land in a merciless ocean of heat and arid waste. By now, Deidara had discarded his cloak, bundling it up into his rucksack; Kakuzu and Hidan had stripped themselves of their cloaks as well, the latter tying it lopsided around his hips as they continued to walk. Sasori remained fully covered; it had come to Deidara's attention that the man's body was insensitive to a lot of things, heat being one of them. He walked fully-covered, not a single drop of sweat or streak of dirt sticking to his face.

Deidara blew a wisp of his bangs from his eyes and scowled; the puppet-man had left behind his usual shell--Hiruka--in Ame for refurbishing, so it was one of the few times Deidara could admire the other artist's own work. And, Sasori was beautiful, no doubt, with his porcelain-like tone and sharp angles. He looked ancient and young at the same time, wise yet arrogant. Deidara sighed; he'd never admit it, but Sasori of the Red Sands was exquisite. Not exactly his taste, per say, but a masterpiece no less. Artists had to respect each other's craft, after all.

 _'Even if he doesn't respect mine.'_ He thought sourly.

"Are we ready to take to the air?" Kakuzu asked, pulling Deidara from his own thoughts.

"Hn, I'm always ready! Why'd you think the Leader sent me along with you guys, huh?"

"You don't need to have an attitude with every sentence that comes out of your mouth." Sasori snapped; Kakuzu hummed in agreement.

Deidara rolled his eyes, "Psh, whatever, relic. Stand back, hn, this will take up some space."

With that, he threw his hands into his utility pouches, the mouths snapping and gnashing their teeth with delight as he could taste the clay and gunpowder. The clay immediately began to take form, growing and growing as Deidara kneaded and shaped the white paste into the gradual form of a dragon; he raised his hands and cried out some Iwan gibberish for added effect, the creature sizzling to life as it twitched in the air. Deidara smirked with pride, watching Hidan cower behind Kakuzu as him and Sasori both shielded their faces from the whirling dust. Soon--very soon--they'd respect him. All in a matter of time.

"Sweet Jashin, dude!" Hidan cried, "How the _fuck_ did you manage that? I just thought you got your kicks from blowing people up...this is _dope_ as Hell!"

The dragon stomped back down to earth, the ground shuddering while its creator stood tall.

"Hn, there's a lot more to me than you think." 

Without hesitation, Deidara climbed up an outstretched wing, forming a saddle-like seat by the dragon's shoulders while the others boarded. Surprisingly, Sasori came and sat himself right next to him.

"I must admit, this _is_ rather impressive." He said aridily, as if he was trying to hide a rather apparent note of awe.

Deidara tried to shrug nonchalantly, "I've had a lot of practice, hn. My art is easier to perform while in the air."

"So it seems." 

"Yo, Dei, you got any seatbelts on this bitch?" Hidan asked.

"You're immortal--you'll be fine if you fall, right?" Sasori snapped, "Let the man do his work."

Hidan's eyes widened and made a move to retort, but Kakuzu shoved his shoulder, threatening to rip his tongue out and throw it off the side. Sasori and Deidara exchanged a glance and it seemed to the young artist that they were almost sharing a hidden joke. How confusing! One minute, Saosri was cold and callous, the next he was welcoming Deidara with curt compliments and a stolen glance. 

_'I just...I just...'_ Deidara sputtered, ' _...nevermind. You have a job to do. Impress him first and then worry about his feelings later.'_

"Alright bitches, hang on, hn, because it's time we pay the Hidden Waterfill a visit!"

With a warcry of a whoop, Deidara sent the dragon straight upwards, the force of the ascent so swift it sent him and the rest of his teammates clinging for dear life. The dragon continued its path upwards, only slowing once it had breached the clouds. Deidara could hardly contain his laughter: here he was, among the sky and in his element of choice, commanding both a superior force and the complete attention of his teammates--his competition--while practically leading a mission. If only Itachi Uchiha could see the power he now held! Deidara crowed as the dragon took a slight dip downwards, Hidan joining in with his maniacal laughter while Kakuzu and Sasori did their best to hang tight.

"Dude, you're a fucking _psychopath!"_ Hidan screeched, "But those are _my_ kind of people, _goddamn!"_

Deidara shot him an open-mouthed smirk and commanded the dragon to take a halfway loop through the air, the creature roaring as it spun.

"Deidara, please, we're supposed to be undercover!" Sasori called through the rush of air.

"Oh, _come on,_ hn! Like anyone is going to see us from up here!" The younger artist fired back.

_'Just you wait, I'll show you especially how capable I am of my power! You will never tell me what to do ever agai--'_

**_FWOOOOOOOOSH!_ **

Suddenly, a beam of light shot past them, causing the dragon and its passengers to veer perilously to the right. 

Deidara's eyes darted around in panic, "Hn, what the fuck was _that?!"_

"We've been spotted!" Sasori called back, clenching tightly to his saddle.

Another beam spurted through the air,this time clipping the left wing, a large chunk falling and eventually exploding upon terrestrial impact. The missle caused the dragon to buck once more, sending the entire Akatsuki squad into a mad frenzy, Hidan clinding to Kakuzu while the older immortal tried to latch everyone to the beast with all the threads he could muster. Meanwhile, Deidara tried to regain control over his own creation, the dragon roaring and huffing with anger as it tried to fight its master's control.

"Son of a--hn, settle down! Please! You are _my art!_ My creation! And you need to _listen to me!"_ The young artist roared.

But the dragon twisted its neck and body as another blast bulldozed into the clay creation's chest; in an instance, the beam blasted a hole through the monster, sending Sasori, Hidan, and Kakuzu off the vessel and into the air. Deidara's heart froze.

"No...no, no, no, no, no, _no, no, no!_ No! This is _not_ happening on _my watch!"_ He shrieked.

With a burst of life, he commanded the dragon to swipe at his fallen comrades, a thick **_thunk!_ ** alerting him to a capture. In his peripheral vision, Deidara could see movement darting towards him, a shadow crossing into his view of other people in the air. 

"Oh, hn...not _her."_

A woman catapulted herself into him, sending Deidara head over heels into the dragon's head.

"What do you think _you're doing?!"_

It was Karatsuchi, a team of four other men by her side. Deidara pushed his hair back again, his hands making deep guttural noises out of anger. Who did she think she was, putting his own team in danger? With a yell, Deidara threw a punch at her, but she dodged it and kicked him square in the ribs, hooking her elbow around his neck and tossing him like a ragdoll.

"So he taught you the particle jutsu, hn?" Deidara demanded, "Because of what, hn? You're his successor? Your skills are _amature_ \--mine are immaculate!"

Karatsuchi made a grab at his collar, "What is _wrong_ with you? We need to _talk,_ bring you back so we--"

Before she could finish, a swarm of threads lashed around her and tossed Karatsuchi into her teammates, sending the unit sprawling off the still-moving dragon.

"We need to grab them _now!"_ Kakuzu demanded, gesturing below--the tone in his voice sent Deidara into even more of a panic

In a flash, the artist's hands worked like magic; he could see Sasori and Hidan still falling...oh, God, he could hear their _screams!_ The young artist birthed forth a massive centipede, the clay and gun powder so strong it was intoxicating to his senses, and strapped himself and Kakuzu to the dragon. The two remaining teammates shot each other a look.

"I'm not going to make it to Sasori!" Deidara screamed, "But I know who can!"

Then, they dived.

Air rushing, faces flushing, the dragon barrelled towards the earth at the speed of sound. As they fell, Deidara could just make out Hidan's body, the Jashinist flailing like a fish out of water. Immediately, the dragon veered into his direction.

"What's the plan?!" Kakuzu shouted over the drone of air.

Deidara narrowed his eyes, "A sacrifice play!"

He then sent the dragon careening to the left, snatching Hidan and throwing him midair to Deidara's position.

"What the _fuck_ are you saving _me_ for?!" He shrieked, "Save Sasori! He's going to _die_ if he breaks a part!"

"I _know_ that, hn--hang on and get ready _to fly!"_

In the brief moment they had, Deidara and Hidan exchanged a glance; they knew the plan. Kakuzu strapped as many threads as he could to his partner, as well as secured himself and Deidara tightly.

"Ready?" Deidara called, "We're taking a loop!"

With that the dragon dipped downwards and Hidan dive bombed off it's back, speeding headfirst towards the ground at a breakneck pace. Meanwhile, Deidara manned the dragon, angling it to align with the Jashinist's flight pattern as they continued their perilous descent. Deidara gasped; Saosri was coming back into view! And what a view it was: the red man was falling with grace, still and silent, as if in the midst of accepting his untimely fate. 

_'Not today. You aren't dying today, goddammit, this is only my first mission with you!'_ Deidara raged internally.

Hidan continued to dive, getting closer and closer to Sasori while the desert below continued to rise and meet them. Deidara held his breath, his lungs screaming as the sudden descend squashed every word from his lungs and left him dizzy with fear and adrenaline. 

"Come on, come on! Hn, make yourself _useful,_ oh God, please!" He cried.

The ground was coming closer, barreling up to greet them at a speed Deidara knew was too fast for him to counteract--Hidan was still diving, barely a few feet's distance from Sasori. 

_'Come on, come on, come on!'_

"I need more time!" The young artist decided.

With one final burst of power, Deidara constructed a bird of clay, roughly the size of a cat. It'd had to be enough. The creature flew swiftly towards Sasori and Hidan, Deidara doing his best to maintain control and not faint from exhaustion. It was officially a race between the clay bird, the ground, and Sasori and Hidan. And Deidara had no idea who was going to come out on top--all he could do was pray to whatever god existed within him.

"Sas, here!"

Deidara watched Hidan grab Sasori's outstretched arm and _fling him upward_ in swift motion, switching places with the puppet-man as the sands again appeared into Deidara's view. There, time slowed: Sasori's eyes showed with fear and exhilaration, his hair unruly and locks adrift as the clay bird snatched his smaller body and halted at a painful stop midair. Then, with a sickening **_crunch!_ ** Hidan smashed into the desert, creating a hole that should have been Sasori's grave. 

Deidara's world fell quiet.

_"Hidan!"_

The dragon crashed to the ground, melting away the minute Deidara collapsed to the side; Kakuzu vaulted off the creation, sprinting towards his fallen partner. Meanwhile, the clay bird smashed into the earth right besides the young artist, sending a flurry of sand and debris into his tired body. And with that debris came his partner, coughing and wheezing, dizzy and dazed, but alive.

Alive. Sasori was _alive._

"You...you _idiot,"_ He garbled, "How could you..."

Deidara didn't even wait for a reply; he clung tightly to Sasori, a unexpected sob bursting forth from his chest. It had been his fault--all of it, from the arrogant words to the _utter bullshit_ he tried pulling in the sky! _He_ was the one who had alerted his sister to their whereabouts and _he_ had been the one to put them all in danger.

"...how the Hell did you do that?"

Deidara peeked out from his partner's sharp collarbone and stared at him, tears muddling his own makeup.

"...what?"

And _he_ had saved them all. Every single one of them.

"Goddammit, Hidan..."

The two artists tore their attention off of each and stared at a truly pitiful sight: Kakuzu, dragging both himself and a very broken Hidan out of the crater, the Jashinist subconscious and limp as a wilted flower. Immediately, Sasori pulled himself together and clambering over to the pair, Deidara wobbling as he followed behind. In the distance, he could hear muffled shouting--Karatsuchi and her team were up and moving again. Before Sasori could reach the others, Deidara grabbed his sleeve.

"Hn, we got some business to finish, my man."

Sasori stared at the young artist with a look of genuine disbelief; then, his face contorted into a sick smile. He shrugged off his cloak and stood proudly next to Deidara, the two sizing up their approaching attackers. Deidara's hands gnashed with anticipation.

"You sure you can handle this, brat?" Sasori smirked.

Deidara grinned and slapped his partner's back, "Oh, hn, trust me--I'm a force to be reckoned with. Don't you _ever_ forget that."

 _'This is it, our first fight together...our first chance to make art together...'_ He thought gleefully.

And they stood their ground, the enemy fast approaching, the sun blazing. It was all Deidara could ever want.

With a cry for battle, they rushed--together--into the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little context: regardless of how supportable it is, I always like to hc Deidara and Karatsuchi as some sort of siblings (be it direct or as cousins) because I want to fill holes in Dei's story that Kishimoto neglected. It just adds a nice flavor of conflcit.


	2. February 23: Horror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always wanted to see Sasori completely unhinged...I attached the music I wrote this to, if anyone is interested.
> 
> Warning: Mild gore and torture
> 
> "She Devil" (Audiomachine): https://search.audiomachine.com/tracks?tracks=am62-4

"Repeat what you just said."

"They want a ransom, apparently; it's well out of our budget, however, so I think--"

"Don't you _dare_ tell me what you think. You think he's just as expendable as the rest of us, but I _swear_ I'll kill you if--"

"Hey, Sas, these punks just chopped off his arm and fucking _mailed_ it to us; I don't think they're going to take any of your shit."

"...we still can't afford to get him out. Doesn't matter what attitude you piss on me with--it's not going to help anything."

"Stand aside, then. And, Leader, don't come looking for me; I'll return when I lay the city's _ashes_ to rubble."

"Have it your way. Just don't do anything...rash."

"...hah, dumbass got his arm hacked off, again. What a fucking clown..."

"Then _don't_ get in my way."

*************

_Another day, another festival. Seriously, our village just can't get enough of them! Today's celebration involves some sort of lords' ceremony, which is boring in my opinion, but at least there's a carnival afterwards. Seku just won't stop begging for a new doll to play with, so I have to win at least one game. Yeah, just for him._

"Senja, come help me pick out some candies for your father!" _My mother calls, standing and waving near a busy stall._

_As always, she's bustling around the market square for the festive discounts, her little coupon booklet out while she barters with an old lady of a shopkeeper. Across the street, I can see a bunch of boys in my class helping their fathers and friends load fireworks into a cart; we always have a light show at these events, even though we never have any purpose to celebrate. Today isn't even a holiday! Father always says it's the underground people's way of covering their bad deeds, but Mother says that it's just something fun to get the community involved. Whatever that means. I just like to go play with Seku and eat some good fried scorpion, the type that's all tender and tasty and practically melts off the stick when you put it in your mouth. Yeah, I can't wait to grab some of those for dinner while we watch the firework show._

_The day so far has been busy, with my school letting all of us out early for the celebration and Father and Mother getting off of work early and Seku not having to go to daycare. We've been able to spend the whole day together! And it's been really nice, except for the occasional rain...I hate the rain. I've always got an umbrella with me...my grandma used to make fun of me because of it and how I don't like to get my hair wet. Oh, well, it's true!_

_And thank goodness, because, with the rain, people are starting to cough. Some are coughing a little more aggressively than others, actually...wait, where did my mother go?_

"Mom! Where are you?" _I call, but my voice is swallowed up by coughs and angry words._

 _The air has turned cold yet the sun shines blood-red among the clouds; the rain has stopped. Odd, I thought I could feel tremors in the ground. Like something is trying to dig its way to the world above. Anxiety starts to wash over me and I keep seeing these..._ **_figures,_ ** _cloaked in red, stalking through the crowd. Are these the underground people Father always talks about? I need to find Mother now, then this will all go away--_

**_CRRRRRASH!_ **

_Chaos. My world has blown to chaos._

_The ground is rumbling and there...there is a_ ** _man_** _in the air, drenched in sunlight and blood as he tosses a body to the ground, like a predator warning its prey of future victims. The whole world stands still, everyone holding their breath as the sky spurts with iron-red and begins to reek of decay and poison. Wait, oh my god people are dropping to the ground in waves, like flies felled by a storm. The rain from earlier! It never rains in Iwa! The rain was purple and blackish, smelling of rot...no, he's_ ** _poisoning_** **_us!_** _I have to run, grab my mother and find Father and Seku at home!_

_There's bombs sounding off--the fireworks for tonight! I turn among the panicked, trampling crowd and see giant wooden dolls zip across the air, lighting and hurling the colorful bombs at buildings and people. The world explodes in a multicolored horror as I watch people catch on fire or splatter to the ground or are ripped apart by these monstrous dolls that just move at the red man's command!_

_I push passed a group of little girls, crying for their mothers as I search frantically for my own. Mom! Please, we need to get back to the house and find Father and my brother! Finally, I see her, screaming at me to_ **_run away_ ** _and get as far away as I can. But why?! Mother, I need you! Please, I can get to if I can only get through these people, then I can get to her!_

 _Suddenly, an explosion to the left...oh...oh my gods that's near_ **_my house!_ ** _Wait, what about Father? He was still in there! My mother is running, dodging falling debris and bodies as the sky rains with hundreds of wooden monsters--my doll! I need to save my doll so I can bring it back to Seku, if I--_

_A chunk of building smashes into the earth in front of me, throwing me off my feet and imploding the ground from underneath._

"Mom!" _I shriek,_ "Mom! Wait--"

 _But the red man slams into the dirt before me, so quick that he whips arounds kicks my mother straight in the chest, sending her crashing into some cement with a sickening_ **_crack!_ ** _And he doesn't even care to step around her body, but walks right on top of her, a sick_ **_crunching_ ** _sound coming from her back. No, no, no, no this can't be happening! I'm fine--I just am having a bad dream and I will wake up any minute--_

"Not so fast, kid."

_Before I can flee or scream again or even move to my feet, the red man digs his fingers into my hair and yanks me upright, so hard that locks rip from my scalp. Gods, I want my mother...I want my father! Please, anybody!_

"Please, somebody help!"

"No one is going to save you," _The red man hisses,_ "I'm going to kill them all anyways. So, shut up and help me or I will _snap your neck_ before you can even squeal."

_Slowly, he drags me across the dirt and I can feel blood sticking in my hair and scalp...my mother lays still, all her life and love squashed out like a scorpion caught in a trap. Seku...I need to find him, he's gotta be so scared! The red-haired man--no, he;'s not a man, not really, with all the splinters flaking off his hands and arms--hoists me over his shoulder as he climbs through rubble and ruin. How'd he even cause all this? He's not like the exploding man. No, he must've have help from those wooden monsters, the ones circling us like a swarm of locusts now...please, any god out there, please, I need to find Seku..._

"Where's the Legion?"

_It isn't a request so much as a demand, the man's fingers now stabbing into my skull, he's grabbing so hard. Legion? What legion? Mother and Father always warned of bandits, terrorists and thieves that did the dirty work of the futile lords, but they never had a name before._

"I...I don't know what you're t-talking about..." _I stammer._

"They took my partner," _The red man growls,_ "And I want him back."

 _We're crossing the town square, the smell of charred flesh and arson filling my nose, so much so that I yank away from his grip and puke onto the dirt around us. The red man looks down on me as I wrench over and over, tears now falling and my nose bleeding because it smells_ **_so awful_ ** _and how does it not bother him? Is he even a man? I can feel his eyes, glass-like and narrow, boring into me, his fingers rubbing the chunk of hair I yanked away. He snorts in disgust as I lay, all dirty and smelly, like something he accidently picked out of the trash. I need to get away, somehow find my brother and find Father. Come on! I can run now, throw filth at my captor or kick him in the shins or something to help me get away. Please, I want to live! I want to find my family and save them and run as far away as I can because something about this man is more_ **_terrifying_ ** _than anything I have ever dreamed of!_

"Tell me where the Legion is, or I'm going to skin you where you lay," _The man spits,_ "I'll throw your useless human body in a ditch and turn you into a mannequin for my puppets to take target practice on."

"I don't know who the Legion is!" _I cry, suddenly angry and defiant._

_But instead of yanking me back to my feet, the man smiles; a wooden doll of his swoops down to us, its hair black and eyes amber. Oh, the Third! Yes, we're learning about him in our history books this week...so that means that the red man is..._

"Are you Sasori?"

_There's a slight change in his eyes, a soft shade that immediately dissipates._

"I'm a threat, an avenger coming to collect my due. You'll never live long enough to learn about my legacy."

 _He beckons the doll of the Third over, petting it softly as he pulls something from his knapsack...oh my god it's an_ **_arm._ ** _It's a severed arm, oh my god...within minutes I'm throwing up on the ground again, hacking at the snot and mucus and bile sticking to my throat. The doll sniffs it and examines the hand, a gnashing mouth and teeth trying to bite at the doll's own wooden fingers. Then, the puppet takes flight and vanishes, throwing us both into a whirlwind of dust...how can it even fly? From the corner of my eye, I can see some blue strings--no, light--escape the red man's fingers...in fact, blue light is attached to_ **_all_ ** _of the wooden dolls: the ones in the air, the ones crawling on the ground, the ones chasing people. They all move for the red man._

 _He looks down at me,_ "Come on, we're going to stalk our prey; I'll find them without your help or not."

***********

_For hours we walk, the red man taking his time to ask everybody we pass the path to our destination, stabbing them with a metal scorpion's tail regardless of their answer. We pass through broken buildings, wrecked streets, and a landscape that is so ridden with holes and debris I don't even recognize my village anymore. And he refuses to let me look back, refuses to let me run to my mother or anyone I recognize--aunts and uncles, classmates, family friends and loved ones--he just yanks me back by the hair and tells me to forget them. That he's already killed them, even while they are alive and writhing in pain._

_We approach a shinobi, a woman who teaches at my academy, and the red man takes interest; he grabs her by the neck and threatens her with a tiny needle, demanding why she has a certain talisman on her shoulder...and when she spits in her face,_ **_he stabs her_ ** _straight in the soft part of her throat and her eyes bulge bloodshot and she's foaming at the mouth so fast I burst into to tears and wrench all over myself and scream because_ **_why are you doing this?_ ** _Why are you killing us if we don't have your friend!_

_Without a word, the red man tosses his victim to the ground and continues on, the talisman clenched so tightly in his hand I can see wood splintering once more off; he grabs my shirt and brings me to my feat, not even acknowledging the mess I've made on myself again...he just takes one glance with those false eyes and rolls them, so fast and so furiously that they escape into the back of his head like magic._

"I know the cave in this drawing...I can't leave you as a witness, so you're coming with me," _He speaks,_ "Maybe you'll get butchered during the crossfires, who knows."

 _And I soon find myself climbing up jagged rocks, cutting my hands and slicing my knees and shins as the red man floats above, his favorite doll having returned with another talismans. I could run, I really could. I need to find Seku and run with him,_ _though running now would get me killed. The red man hasn't let anyone else live--what says he would let **me** live? _

_When we finally arrive, the red man doesn't even hesitate; he pulls me up to my feet and marches us into the big, black yawning of a cave I had only heard stories of before. Is this the Legion? Is that where this will all end? I can go find my brother and hug him, scoop him up and never return to this awful place ever again--_

**_BOOM!_ **

"Who goes there?!"

 _I'm thrown to my feet and trapped under rocks and dirt; the red man walks with grace, a slight twitch in his step and I can hear him_ **_laughing_ ** _like a maniac oh my gods he's laughing as the cave shakes and the ceiling cracks...there's a group of people, maybe twenty of thirty or so, and in the middle of them lays a lump of blonde and black. Oh, no, it's a person. The red man's voice brakes as he almost sinks to his knees._

"What have you _done_ to him?!" _He bellows, using a voice so loud and powerful and nothing like the voice he was hissing at me with._

_The lump--another man--is all shredded up, missing most of his right arm, blood caking his hair and skin and there are deep, ragged slashes across his back, welts rising and bubbling over where whips had eaten from his flesh. Even from my own prison, I can see the man's hair has been torn out in some places, bruises and cuts scattered across his face like a battlefield...he spits out a tooth and glares outwards with the sharpest eyes I had ever seen. Oh, god, please...I want to leave! Please, take me away so that I may never be scared again, so that I can find my brother and we can flee--_

"Hn, about damn time."

_A woman steps in front of the throng, an ugly blade in her hand; without hesitation, she stabs it clean into the other man's shoulder, giving the blade a painful twist that's so loud I can hear it scratch across bone. The man refuses to scream, tears filling his eyes as he bites his torn-up lip in defiance with such a force there's blood dribbling now from both his mouth and his back._

_And, then, the red man cracks._

_The world moves so fast, an army of wooden dolls swooping in like harpies as they pick up and tear to pieces their prey, the glorious Third gnashing into the chest of a man who poison-dripped fangs while another puppet flings a woman into the cave walls. I try to conceal myself, curl under the rock that is now pinning my broken leg to the ground; a man is ripped in half while someone is broken across a stalagmite. There's so much chaos, so much blood and all I can pay attention to is how the red man walks among the madness to his partner, the woman from earlier trying to drag the blonde man away for further torture. But her captive fights back, trying to bite at her legs or sweep her from underneath as she lugs him away from the disaster unfolding before us._

"You can't take him!" _She shrieks,_ "You cannot take him! He must be _punished_ for what he's done to our village!"

"And _you_ must be punished for what you've done to _him."_

 _With that, the red man flicks his fingers and wrist downward--a puppet crashes into the woman, so fast and so hard she splatters across the ground, leaving the blonde man covered in her flesh and blood. Oh...oh, no I need to run. I need to_ **_run_ ** _because they're going to do this to me next and I can't let that happen, no, not if I want to see my family again! I start to pull away from the rock, screaming as the bones in my leg crush further under the weight and I cannot get free. From the corner of my eye, I can hear sobbing; yes, the blonde man is_ **_sobbing_ ** _into the red man's arms, the two monsters huddled together and clinging tight as they mumble to each other promises while I continue to cry for help, for mercy, for anyone and anything to come_ **_rescue me._ **

_My screams stop the minute they both turn to me. Please, please, please, please..._

_"_ Sas, my man, you can't leave her here."

"Why's that?" _The red man asks._

 _His partner glares forlornly at me,_ "Hn, she's going to turn up just like you."

 _Please, please, please,_ **_please_ ** _, please let me go! Let me live! I need to find Seku, save him and run away and never--_

"I _hate_ it when you're right."


	3. February 24: From Rivals to Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This is yet another cut scene from my wip "Akatsuki Fraternity" (tryna put that in May after school) catered to this event; Deidara and Sasori have a pretty compatible relationship in the fic, but there's still quite a bit of head-butting. Hence, why they should never play board games together...

Sasori glared across the floor, watching the spinner in Itachi's hands drag across its cardboard mat.

"Scared, hn?"

"Not a chance, brat."

The group--minus Kisame and a sound-asleep Kakuzu--sat in the living room of their Greek house, the night outside cold and clammy. With graduation and summer well past their time, the remaining members had made a collective decision to close all recruitment offers for the academic year; Kisame wanted to do it in honor of those who were gone, while Kakuzu saw it as an opportunity to pay off what little they could of their egregious property damages. Regardless, it had been a quiet fall semester, so much so that Hidan (of all people) had suggested they bring back one of the Akatsuki Fraternity's most sacred traditions: extreme (board) game nights.

"Hn, I'm going to _whoop_ your ass so hard, it's going to make your _ancestors_ dizzy." Deidara boasted.

Sasori rolled his eyes and smirked, "Oh, please--everyone knows you're probably the most inflexible person on the face of the Earth. I can _definitely_ attest to that."

"You would know a thing or two about being inflexible, hn, given how _demanding_ you are..."

"Guys, shut up," Itachi sighed, "It landed on red. Dei's move."

The boys had gone through a handful of games already: Risk, Checkers, Candy Land, LIFE, a dinosaur-themed Operation set, and--of course--ping pong had pitted them against each other for a majority of the day, dividing roommates and couples on a whim. Plenty of games had already been banned in the past: Monopoly was redacted because Kakuzu and Sasori kept ganging up and stealing everyone's property, Hidan ruined Guitar Hero after some _very_ aggressive Metallica matches, and Deidara and Itachi had broken Kisame's Rock'em Sock'em Robots the second day after it was bought. In all honesty, Sasori was surprised the tradition hadn't been scraped permanently.

Yet, despite all this, one game seemed to always reappear: Twister. Why, nobody was quite sure; Twister tested the established relationships' patience too much, with Kisame and Itachi watching forlornly as the sexual tension between the other members seemed to _skyrocket_ exclusively during these events. Deidara reached an arm between Sasori's legs and tapped it against a far-right red dot.

"Hn, what a nice view." He whistled.

Sasori rolled his eyes and ignored the comment, "Give me something that I can twist around with and knock the idiot on his ass, please."

"Hey! What makes you think _you're_ going to beat _me?"_ Deidara snapped.

"Bro, he always kicks your ass!" Hidan interrupted, shouting from the kitchen fridge, "Watching you get tits in a twist by Sas is funniest shit of the week!"

Upside down, Deidara gasped, "Oh, really? Why don't you come over and I'll show you just how bad I'm--"

Before he could continue, Sasori moved his left leg towards a green dot, forcing his partner to stretch even further across the playing mat, his unruly hair catching in his mouth and shrouding his face. From there, Itachi called out Deidara's next move: a move to blue with his left hand. The rattle from a cheap screen door announced Kisame's return, a bag of groceries and a case of hard seltzer in his arms. 

"How's the chaos going?" He asked, shooing away Hidan as he laid out his goods.

"I'm winning," Sasori said softly, smugly, "But I'm sure you expected as much."

 _'Like I always do.'_ He added to himself.

"Hn, not everything is a damn competition, Danna." Deidara huffed.

Kisame sighed, "glad to be back, then, I guess."

"It really hasn't been _that_ bad," Itachi stated, glancing back from the couch, "Kakuzu passed out probably an hour ago, so him and Hidan haven't been at it."

"That's because I kept him up _all night_ last night!" Hidan crowed; he tried to make a swipe for one of the yogurt packs Kisame had brought in, but the other man growled in response, sending both of them into a flurry of petty hand swats.

Sasori took his next turn--a yellow dot for his right foot--and maneuvered with grace, his socks barely slipping against the synthetic plastic. Sure, competition wasn't _everything_ to him, but it was enough to remind Deidara of their dynamic, if only for a brief moment. They had only been together for a year and, though he knew in his heart there was no one else for him, Sasori needed to remind his lover of his place. He was the elder, he was the mentor--Deidara was still the wild, unpredictable kid he had met back in ceramics before any of this mess had occurred. He adored Deidara, yes, but often that affection was colored with the not-so-subtlest of aggravation. Competition was a healthier outlet for them, as Konan used to say.

 _'He enjoys this, anyways.'_ Saosri convinced himself.

"Sas, did you hear me?"

Itachi pulled him back to reality; the black, plastic arrow had landed on "Green" once more, this time with his right hand. Sasori grimmanced, Deidara chuckling at the look upon his face.

"What, hn? I thought you said I was the one that was inflexible?" He sneered, shifting his weight while maintaining his pose.

Saosri frowned, "I adore you, but you're just awful, sometimes. Absolutely awful."

Bending his knees, he spread out into an awkward-looking push-up position, Deidara's ass now dangling above his head. If he could just get another blue dot, he'd be able to sweep his partner off the mat and win. That was, however, if Deidara didn't get and "Reds" or "Greens". Such was the setup for success.

"Hmpf! Well, you aren't so nice yourself sometimes too, my man." Deidara spat.

"Oh my fucking _God,_ just take your stupid-ass turn already!" Hidan groaned; he was now laying out on his own partner, filling the loveseat they had staked out completely.

Both artists glared at him, to which Hidan--now nestled under Kakuzu's arm--stuck his tongue out at them. Kisame mumbled something about long distance relationships as he ripped open a yogurt cup; Itachi played ideally with his hair and flicked the plastic arrow round and round out of boredom.

"Wait, wait, hn! Stop messing with the spinner so I can beat Sas' ass!" Deidara cried.

Itachi paused the spinner with his fingertip, "Hm, interesting...I believe you need to take that left foot of yours and step on blue."

"Son of a..."

"Looks like it's all over for you, Dei," Sasori smirked, "It seems that--well, how did you put it? _I'm_ going to be the one making your ancestors dizzy tonight."

He gave his partner a light hip-check as Deidara rotated into a backbend under Sasori, their limbs shaking under the strain. With a curse, Deidara wobbled, grabbing Sasori's shirt for balance.

"Shut your _mouth,_ hmpf! I'm going to beat you and you know it!" He growled.

Sasori sneered back, but on the inside a knot of guilt was starting to grow. He knew he was competitive--it had been the basis as to why Deidara and him got along so well. They were both driven, both passionate, and both eager to please the other by surpassing them. It was the necessary path of their relationship; Deidara may have been all sugar and spice in the beginning, but Sasori had fallen in love with the undeniable _fire_ inside him. Deidara was both his biggest competition and biggest fan...of course they were always at odds! 

_'So why do I feel like this?'_ He pondered.

"You should be taking note of this," Sasori continued, "Patience is what gets you places. I mean, look at you--if you hadn't been so caught up in the moment you might have realised--"

Before he could finish his sentence, Deidara yanked him down even further, smushing their lips against each other and tumbling to the floor. The room immediately burst into noise, the two partners shouting insults while Kisame, Hidan, and Itachi tried to pull apart the squabble; surprisingly, Kakuzu was still asleep, the perfect example of a man who had taken on one too many triple shifts during the week. When they were finally dragged from each other, Sasori's lips curled into a sneer while Deidara hissed at him like an angry cat. This was just typical--they weren't as vicious with each other as Kakuzu and Hidan, but Deidara and Sasori weren't exactly docile either. 

Deidara scrambled away from Kisame's grip and grabbed Sasori by the shoulder, the other man just barely contained by Hidan.

"What is it with you, hn? Why do you need to make everything a goddamn _competition?"_ He demanded.

"Because that's always what you want!" Sasori replied, "You _like_ the turmoil and passion that comes from this type of...of _bullshit._ You like it when we go at each other; you always have!"

"Well, hn, maybe I _like_ it when you respect me too. Ever think of _that_ in that big, dumb brain of yours?"

Sasori sighed; he had screwed up. Big time. But as he tried to reach for Deidara's hand to squeeze, his partner pushed it away and stood, stomping off upstairs and into their room, a loud slam indicating that he was done with the night's events. Dumfounded, the rest of the house sat on the floor, the only noise being Kakuzu's snores.

Itachi sat on his knees and crossed his arms, "Wow, you really messed up."

"Thanks, Itachi, very informative." Sasori snapped.

 _'I'm not going to let him just go to bed angry like that.'_ He decided, rising and readjusting his shirt; fondly, he noticed a small scratch mark from Deidara's new acrylics. 

"You're going to solve this?" Itachi pressed.

"Bitch, you better--Dei cherishes _the fuck_ out you. Go fix your shit!" Hidan chimed in.

Kisame rolled his eyes, "You are the last person to talk."

"I agree."

The group glanced back at the loveseat, where Kakuzu was finally stirring, grouchy as a thundercloud.

"I worked almost _seventy-two_ _hours_ this week--go fix your shit so I can sleep."

Sasori rolled his eyes and waved a hand in his friend's direction, but, regardless, he trudged upstairs. He could see the lights were on (Dei's nightlight, at least) in their room, so he knocked softly. No answer.

"Dei? Darling? I want to come in and apologize."

Again, no answer.

_'Dammit, I know where he is.'_

He twisted the knob and entered; just as he suspected, Deidara was nowhere inside. However, the window was wide open, the curtains swaying gently in the gloomy air. Sasori unintentionally shivered and began to climb out, grumbling about the cold and rain. It was here that he found Deidara, perched upon Nagato's old windowsill, broody and shivering in the light rain. In all honesty, Sasori could have punched him.

"Dei, what are you doing?" He scowled, "You're going to get sick out here!"

Deidara glanced in his direction, hair matted with moisture and his eyeliner runny.

"Hn, thought you'd rather kick somebody else's ass downstair to keep your winning streak." He mumbled.

"Don't be ridiculous--I only enjoy kicking _your_ ass in everything we do. It wouldn't be the same." Saosri replied, clambering down to the same sill.

"Hn, stop, I want to be alone."

"Like I'd let you do that."

"Oh my...Sas, my man, be careful. Hn, it's slippery out here."

"You're the one who picked this place, brat."

"Fine, hn. Guess we'll _freeze_ together, then."

Deidara scooted over to allow Sasori some space, the shorter of the two wrapping his arm tightly around the blonde's waist. Meanwhile, Deidara yanked an arm out of his own hoodie, allowing Sasori to snuggle into the free space for warmth. There, the two sat, watching rain fall while listening to Kisame, Itachi, and Hidan yell at each other over who's move it was. He'd hate to admit it, but Sasori found it peaceful--just him and Deidara, alone and quiet. Nagato really did have the best view out of the entire house.

"You know I love you, right?"

Deidara snorted, "Of course, hn. How could you not?"

The haughty comment made Sasori's eyes twinkle with mirth; he _loved_ everything about Deidara. Always had, it seemed. Sure, they butt heads far too often, but moments like this, where they could just sit and hug close to each other, were worth it. Deidara was always worth it. 

Deidara hummed and smiled to himself, "Hn, wanna know what I'm thinking?"

"...sure." 

"I'm thinking I might be a better kisser than you."

Sasori turned within the sweater and poked his partner in the ribs, raising an eyebrow at Deidara in mock offense.

"Oh, is that...a _challenge?"_ He sneered, "And I thought you were _tired_ of us always competing."

He leaned in and brushed noses against Deidara's, both humming softly in the rainy night.

"Not when it comes to you." 

Deidara planted a rather drawn-out kiss against Sasori's temple; the older artist shivered slightly, the rain and soft brush vibrating throughout him.

 _'I guess so, heh.'_ He thought fondly.

"Fine then, shall we take this inside?"

"...oh, you're _so_ screwed."

"Ask and you shall receive, my dear."

Never in his life had Sasori moved so fast. Out of all the rivalries they held, _this_ was by far his favorite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, folks, I cannot wait to show you more of this story. Sasori and Deidara have such a sweet, healthy relationship in it...ugh, so excited for May.


	4. February 25: Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: References depression, trauma, and mild gore

_"You're an idiot!"_

_"And you need to know your place! Trust me; I can handle this. Just take the Jinchuriki and do your job."_

_"But--"_

_"Please. I can do this alone."_

_‘And you let him, didn't you? You let him go and now look at what you've done…’_

*********

It had been eighteen days since he'd lost his arms. That meant eighteen days where someone had to dress him. Eighteen days where someone had to feed him. Eighteen days where someone had to comb his hair and bathe him. And eighteen days where Itachi watched him as he slept, just in case he tried to do something reckless with himself.

It had been eighteen days since Sasori had died. And that meant eighteen days where Deidara hadn't made a single sound.

"Deidara, I'm not going to ask you twice. You need to eat."

Itachi sat with him now, Kisame and Konan playing cards while the Uchiha scooped up a spoonful of rice and placed it before Deidara. The young artist barely opened his mouth for entry, Itachi making a smarted noise with his lips. 

_'Why should you eat when he can't?'_

Slowly, he opened his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

_'A disgrace. He loved you.'_

He could just _feel_ his arms, like ghosts that longed to caress and grab hold of things, their imaginary fingers yearned to create once more. But, Deidara didn't _want_ to create...he had lost his muse, after all. He had lost his tools and he had lost his muse. His mentor. His lover. He had lost the very art that made him feel empowered. What was the point to art anymore, really, when all it did was dissipate in a flash?

_'True heart is fleeting, of course. And you knew that.'_

"Deidara, please, I need you to eat. We can't lose another member."

This time it was Konan, a note of concern in her voice; she and Kisame were watching him. In the doorframe, Deidara could sense Pein float into focus. 

"I already told you we are working on it," He said indifferently, "Please--have some patience. I am doing everything that I can."

Deidara nodded his head slightly, listening but not really. A week ago, Kakuzu and Zetsu had been sent out to retrieve him a pair of cadaver arms, while Tobi, Hidan, and the Leader himself worked on the dead puppet's body, the Jashinist offering whatever sacred, religious powers he could muster as an olive branch. Itachi tapped his nails gently against the cold table.

"Ready for more?" He asked.

Deidara continued to stare off into the clouds of his own mind--did Itachi mourn for Sasori? Did Konan? Did the Leader? They had a small ceremony the day after the incident, when the boy-Jinchuriki was recaptured by the Hidden Sand and Leaf, but it was nothing spectacular. It wasn't anything Sasori deserved. No, for he deserved every flower and love letter Deidara had ever given to him, every argument and apology, every good and bad night, the ones where they slept together and apart. 

Yet, Deidara didn't know if _he_ deserved more.

He inhaled raggedly, "Hn...um, what if he...hn, what if he doesn't..."

"Dei, relax," Kisame sighed, "Leader said he's got it under control. You two will be alright."

Deidara's eyes focused a bit, wisps from heavily overgrown bangs tickling his eyelids and knotting with his lashes. Leader had promised him new arms and his old partner because he was a god and gods could make those types of promises on a whim. How charming. How fitting, really. Sasori just might be right about that eternity he always preached.

_'But do you deserve to have him back?'_

The voice inside his brain also just might be right; shakily, Deidara pushed away in his chair and stood, stumbling past cautious hands and stiff bodies. The Akatsuki were not well-known for sympathy, but they were trying. Yes, he knew they were trying their best to be understanding (they _really_ were), but they were not him. They did not know the utter turmoil he was wading through. Hidan was the only person who even vaguely understood what the death of a lover meant--and he would always have _his_ partner back! Sasori's work (who was he even kidding? His body was a _masterpiece)_ could last the test of time, but his soul, the last bit of his humanity, was only so strong. 

Deidara trudged through the halls, past the others' rooms, past the communal showers, and past even his own room. The last few days he couldn't even lay in his own bed--the smell of oakwood polish and saffron was just too unbearable. So, for today, he decided to retreat into Konan's bedroom. She never minded, anyways. Curling up, Deidara rubbed his eyes with his knees, creasing eyes that were bare of his signature liquid beauty. In fact, everything about him lacked his signature beauty. His body, his hair, his face...all of it had been stripped, drained out or ripped away by forces nobody could control.

Sasori used to think he was beautiful.

"Sleep. Hn, I just need...some sleep."

*********

He slept for almost two days.

On the third day of whatever week he was in, Deidara emerged from Konan's bed and was greeted with the smell of rosewater and a running shower; Konan was in her bathroom, humming alone and combing her hair. Noiselessly, Deidara dragged himself out of his cocoon and knocked his heel against the door in greeting.

"Come in." Konan called.

"Ko, hn, what..." 

The words tripped out of his mouth, tongue aching with the neglect of speaking and the intimacy it was so accustomed to battling. For a second, all Deidara could do was stand against the doorframe and take deep, slow breaths, the steam and perfume making his head spin. When he finally opened his eyes, Konan stood before him, a toothbrush in hand and a washcloth.

"You're _getting him_ _back_ today." She whispered fiercely.

It had been twenty-something days since his arms had been ripped from him and Deidara was crying, falling to his knees as Konan held him tightly, the salt in his tears stinging his cracked skin as she pressed a hand to the back of his head. It had been twenty-something days since he had been held--really, _really_ held-- by another human being. And it had been twenty-something days since he had seen his lover. Last talked to his lover. Last touched his lover.

Deidara was more than ready.

After Konan had cleaned him up, Kisame came by and rebandaged him, chatting away distractedly, the old ones musty and yellowed. With a yelp, Deidara watched the shark-man rub cleaning alcohol into his wounds, the black threads tightening with a mind of their own. The stitches in his stumps had only been placed in after the combined efforts of Itachi, Kakuzu, and Hidan had cauterised both wounds, which was enough of a trauma of its own. Deidara had thrashed and screamed so ferally that the two zombies where practically pinning him under their weight while the Uchiha seared his flesh. It was all really just a precaution, even though they _itched_ like Hell and made the young artist's eye twitch.

_'Hideous. Ugly. Loathsome. '_

And what would Sasori think of him once he was restored?

**_Knock, knock!_ **

"Oi, Angel-face, Fishshit--it's my turn to babysit." Hidan called, standing just outside the bedroom.

"What a turd..." Kisame growled, giving the last of the bandages a gentle yank.

Konan sat besides them both on the bed, resting a small hand on the blonde artist's shoulder.

Deidara sniffled, "And, hn, you're...hn, you're _sure..."_

"Pein would never lie to you." 

Once Hidan helped him get dressed, the two younger members were off, the Jashinist only a few steps ahead of Deidara. For once, they were quiet--no heckling, no dirty jokes, no hemming and hawing over trivial things. Hidan just held the limp sleeve of Deidara's tunic like a guide, mumbling prayers as they ascended into the smaller corridors of Pein's room. Despite being closer to the sky, the light was at minimum, with a barren storage room full of cadavers and medical equipment, all which made Deidara's stomach lurch. It was dark, it was rank...it was just like him. Pein and Tobi stood in front of a table, waiting patiently.

"Has Kuzu come back with the arms yet?" Hidan asked.

Pein shook his head, "Unfortunately, no. Zetsu contacted me and it seems there are being delayed by legal forces."

"Psh, typical turds," Hidan scowled, "He's so fucking slow...a goddamn _turtle_ of a man, sweet Jashin. Those two asswipes are gonna be so --"

"Hi..Hidan. Shut up." Deidara said, rasp and regret sticking in his voice.

Hidan huffed, "Fine, then. Well, you know where to find me if someone needs an ass-kicking; just name it and I'm there."

Pein stepped forward and, with some noticed hesitation, put an arm around Deidara's smaller frame.

"Are you ready to see him again?"

On the table laid the puppet...Deidara had never realized just how _small_ his partner was. Sasori was slight, frail, and--dare he say it--broken. He laid lifeless, like a ragdoll being discarded on the floor. 

_'Because you had discarded him in the first place.'_

"Hidan's heart is inside him for now, while I work on his core," Pein explained, "But he's alive."

"He will need rest, Deidara." Tobi added, a voice much deeper than the young artist recognized.

"Sas...Sasori never rests."

Cautiously, he approached the table, taking note of the wooden fingers he knew so well; Sasori was alive, yes, but would he think of Deidara now? He was deformed, a mere husk of what used to consider as beautiful. He felt one of his stumps twitch and could feel tears prickling once more.

"Sas...Sas, hn, wa...wake up. _Please."_

Slowly, the parts started to work again: it began with the breathing, shallow rises and falls, followed by the shivering of slender fingers and popping of unused joints. Then, to Deidara's unbound delight, the puppet's eyes _snapped open_ \--they dragged across the room, their gaze alarmed and aggravated, like a scorpion caught in a trap. Then, they landed on Deidara.

"You..you lived."

It wasn't a question but an observation, a declaration of relief that had been bottled up as fear for longer than Deidara could even imagine. In an instance, he wilted to his knees, leaning against Sasori's chest and abdomen while the other man carefully stroked matted blonde hair. Beautiful. Sasori was _beautiful_ once more!

"We'll leave you for some peace." Pein stated; with that, he walked out, Tobi and Hidan trailing quietly behind.

"Dei...where are your arms?" Sasori rasped.

He sat up and slid down the ground with his partner, the two artists slumped against each other on the cold cement floor. Softly, Deidara began to weep again, the voices in his heads rushing against him once more.

_'You are ugly. Devalued. Deformed!'_

_'He will never see you as the same! He will never love you as the same!'_

_'And you were a coward for leaving him. You were a fool and a coward.'_

"Sas, hn, I--"

But Sasori wrapped his arms around him tightly, squeezing Deidara close to his body and patting his scalp and temple in long, deep strokes.

"Shh. You need to rest, as...as do I."

*********

It had been thirty-something days (thirty-three, according to Itachi) since Sasori had come back into Deidara's life. Thirty-something days since Pein was informed that Kakuzu and Zetsu had been forced into hiding while searching for the new arms. Thirty-something days since Kisame and Konan had suggested the possibility of prosthetics. And thirty-something days since Deidara had vehemently turned the idea down. If he was going to create, he was going to do it _his_ way. He'd be patient, if only for his own sanity.

"Dei, dammit, hold still."

Sasori had recovered fairly quick; Hidan's heart had been a literal lifesaver and Pein and Tobi had somehow recalibrated the puppet-man's core, making the transplant within a week of revival. So now all that left for Sasori was one objective: help Deidara heal.

"If you want me to sleep in your bed tonight, you're going to let me bandage you properly," Sasori repeated, "So, please, hold still."

Deidara whined, the voices in his head still bullying him.

_'You will never be as beautiful.'_

"It's not like it matters, hn," He snapped, "They're hideous--no amount of gauze is going to cover _that_ up."

"You're dramatic."

"No, hn, I'm right."

And it was true; the stumps had scabbed over completely, the crude stitches having rotted or fallen out by now. They were ragged, deformed, and--admittedly--ugly. Deidara hated walking past a mirror, hated wearing shorter sleeves. And, when they slept together, Deidara refused to face his partner; it wasn't like he could hold him anymore, anyways. It was a unique torture of its own to watch Sasori tinker away at any old work, watching the nimble fingers dance through his tool box while he could only stare on through dull, dumb eyes.

"Fine, then, be a brat. Come here, at least." Sasori commanded.

Deidara's lips twitched into a sneer, ready to rebuke, but the look dissipated when Sasori placed a hand on his partner's jaw bone.

"You are different. And there is absolutely _nothing wrong_ with that," He whispered, "Difference is what makes our work all the more sweeter. And you, Deidara, are all the more sweeter to me."

 _'And he is right.'_ Deidara finally decided.

Sasori hooked his arms around Deidara's waist and sat him up better, the mattress beneath creaking softly. Without a word, the younger artist titled up and kissed him, feeling warmth and mahogany and gratitude all in one taste; Sasori clung tight, rolling both of them to their sides as he ideally yanked a few blankets over their legs. 

"You're different," He repeated, "And that is okay. It's beautiful to be different. To be unique."

"Promise?" Deidara asked.

Sasori placed a light kiss on his temple, lingering to sniff his hairline; Deidara rubbed against his neck affectionately.

"I promise."

And the ugly voices in Deidara's head were silenced once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SasoDei is not my favorite ship, but this bothered me too much to ignore. Dei deserved some closure and a chance to grief and--regardless of how much I enjoyed Sakura's growth in her fight with him--we needed Sasori around more. But, alas, that's why we write fanfiction. I'll be revisiting Sasori's death and its impact on Deidara through a much darker lense in the future.


	5. February 26: Shop Owner AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this piece is actually a bit of a continuation of my "Tattoos" prompt piece from KakuHida Week 2020 (which, to no surprise it seems, is also divergent of my Akatsuki Fraternity wip). I guess I like creating my own multiverse.
> 
> This piece is original and therefore caters to the prompt...I just like them all living life in their late twenties/early thirties. Modern SasoDei is pretty dope if you think about it.

Deidara checked the shop's calendar for the fifth time; Thursday, March 11. Their anniversary date was tonight and he was going to do everything in his power to make it absolutely glorious. And he already had plenty of build up to work with: the morning had started with breakfast in bed, followed by an excessively _steamy_ shower, and topped off with their usual commute to work filled with conspicuous bus gossip and endearing makeup touch-ups. Truly, it had been a perfect day, but Deidara could hardly wait to see the look on Sasori's face later on...it preoccupied his mind so much that he barely heard the door swing open.

"Excuse me, young man, is there any way I could speak to my grandson for a minute?"

Deidara tore away from his thoughts and spun around behind the counter; just like Konan and Nagato, he and his partner had decided to take their defense earnings and start their own business, choosing an antique/craftsman shop as their goal. Typically, older customers were a rarity, given the shop's location between the Six Paths Tattoos Parlor and Zetsu's extremely niche vegan brunch venue. However, this was no ordinary customer.

"Hn, Granny Chiyo, did you miss me?" Deidara grinned, propping his forearms on the countertop display cabinet.

"I always do, sunshine," She replied cherrily, "But I believe I must speak to your _business partner_ about a certain resin piece I ordered..."

Deidara licked his lips and whistled, "Oh, Sas, my man! It seems a _special_ customer has a bone to pick with you!"

He and Granny Chiyo exchanged a wink as they heard footsteps coming from the floor above, singling Sasori's descend from his workshop.

"Dei, darling, for the last time, we can't keep forgetting to label which of your sculptures are explosive or not...oh, Grandmother. What a pleasant surprise!" 

Sasori joined Deidara behind the counter, his hair ruffled and smock covered in sawdust. Without hesitation, he beckoned with a glance and kissed his partner's cheek, sending Deidara's heart all aflutter. He could have sworn he heard Granny Chiyo let out a chuckle.

"What seems to be the problem?" Sasori asked.

Granny Chiyo sighed in an exaggerated tone, "Well, dear, you seem to have used the wrong measurements for the resin coffee table I wanted. I took a look at the pictures you took of the prototype and the plane is _much_ too big for my parlor room."

"So, you'd like it smaller?" Sasori mused, examining the receipt she handed him, "I'm afraid it's going to take a while; I have puppeteer customizations until the end of the month, so it will take extra time to make revisions, but at least we caught this earlier than later on."

"Very well, very well, then I guess my question is, how much extra do I need to pay for the revisions?" Granny Chiyo asked in a clipped, business-like tone.

 _'Nah, Sas isn't going to charge you extra.'_ Deidara chuckled to himself, _'He really is too kind to do that.'_

Sasori waved a hand, "Oh, absolutely not! Besides, it's more of a hassle to recalculate the original charge, so count this as an exclusive discount."

"Ah, you're such a sweetheart, but I guess I'd expect that from my favorite grandchild." Granny Chiyo smiled.

"That's right, hn, he _is_ a sweetie!" Deidara sat, grabbing his partner's now-red cheeks and giving them a squish, "An absolute treasure. How'd we get so lucky?"

Dasori scowled and swatted his hands away, mumbling something about returning to his work and reorganizing his week's orders, heading back upstairs while Deidara and his grandmother chatted away at the counter. 

"So, do you two have any nice plans for tonight?" Granny Chiyo asked.

Deidara's eyes lit up, "Oh, hn, actually, I do. I'm taking us to his favorite little bistro...it's Thursday, so they're got a special on wine-tasting and you _know_ Sas likes a good Rosé..."

Granny Chiyo hummed with amusement, "Oh, that's very nice, deary. Very sweet; just make sure Sasori can't get a hold of any of the strong stuff. We don't want a repeat of the last holiday..."

The two giggled; last Hanukkah, when the couple had stayed with Sasori's grandmother for the week, it had only take him three half-glasses of some mystery red wine to end up one morning passed out in the pink guest bathroom, half naked and babbling about marionettes and mascara. Needless to say, Deidara had had a blast that holiday.

Granny Chiyo checked her watch, "Well, it seems I need to get to my chiropractor appointment; you be good tonight and make sure Sasori treats you like a prince."

Deidara beamed, "Of course, of course. He does, as always."

He watched Sasori's grandmother shuffle out with a wink, but before he could turn back and return to his reshelving of water color paintings, he heard the doorbell twinkle once more.

"Be a good son-in-law, would you?"

_'Wait, what?'_

Even after the door clattered closed, Granny Chiyo's words were ringing in Deidara's ears like a siren--what could she possibly mean? Did Sasori tell her something that he didn't know yet? Truth be told, Deidara and him had talked about marriage before, but it had occurred to either of them to make any progress on said conversation--they were happy as they were, weren't they? They had this business together, their friends a call away...Sasori and Deidara's relationship had never been stronger.

So why did the young artist suddenly feel unsettled.

 _'Maybe it_ **_is_ ** _time we start talking about it...'_ Deidara pondered.

**********

For the next three hours of work, Deidara did everything in his power to distract himself: he polished the store's Sunan artifacts collection, restocked cleaning supplies, spent time working on his own list of porcelain sculpture orders, and even took time to touch up Sasori's most prized piece--a lifesize model of the Suna's third Kazekage. But, try as he might, he couldn't shake the whirlwind of stress that had already begun to grow in his head.

 _'How do I even approach this?'_ Deidara thought, sifting through carbon pencils, _'Like, do we discuss this? Do I surprise him?'_

A proposal required deep planning, exact calculations at the exact moments when the mood was right. It required an impressive amount of patience--and he was anything but patient. Deidara stared at his hands, the open-mouthed tattoos grinning at him wickedly. He could ask Kisame for advice, but he was already out of the country on holiday with Miru; Hidan was of no use, since him and Kakuzu were on another "relationship pause" (as the Jashinist would always say), and Itachi was, well, Itachi. His attention was focused more into his brother's rehab rather than himself....Deidara had no options, except maybe Tobi, but he and Rin had moved across the state already.

He was, quite simply, out of luck.

"Hn, what would Sasori do?"

"I agree--what _would_ I do if I found my best employee just idling around the sketching station?"

Sasori appeared at the entry of the stairs, hands propped on his hips and a smug look plastered across his face. Deidara blew air at his bangs and scowled. 

"Bitch, hn, I'm your _partner_ , not your employee." He snapped, "Like you could run this whole thing all on your own without my exquisite artwork." 

Sasori snickered to himself and glided down the steps, "Oh, don't press your luck; we've got a dip in sales because _somebody_ doesn't know how to take a criticism with grace when a client asks for revisions on their gunpowder-based, stone-clay bird sculpture set."

"Hmpf, says you! Hn, how'd you feel about that refund you had to give on Monday over the charcoal portrait you spent six straight hours on?"

Deidara smirked as he watched his partner bristle; "Well, that's because those ingrates wouldn't know true art even if it punched them in the throat."

_'And this is why I love you...'_

"So," Sasori continued," What's bothering you, hm? You need me to do some of the Iwan artifacts inventory?"

He slipped past the banister and hopped onto the display counter, snaking an arm around Deidara's back and kissing his earlobe. On the outside, the blonde artist licked his lips suggestively, dipping down to mumble something flowery and feisty into his partner's ear, but on the inside Deidara was sinking in a slow panic. He couldn't tell Sasori what he was thinking! 

_'Why, if he knew what his grandmother said, he'd freak out just as much...marriage hasn't been part of the picture yet!'_

"Dei, darling? You lost in space again?"

He could feel Sasori's fingers ghost across the scars on his forearms, passed the elbow and into his sleeve to touch his shoulder, picking at dry skin or a pimple or something. When they were younger, Sasori was more than delighted when Deidara offered to lie down and let. him pick at his back acne; he could have been a surgeon, they'd always say. Instead, they were here in this antique shop, barely making rent at times and drowning in artistic oddities. Even for tonight, Deidara was relying on an entire paycheck to make their anniversary magical. Marriage was never going to be an option, or at least an affordable one.

Deidara sighed, "Sas, you're excited for tonight, right?"

"Of course...why wouldn't I be?" Sasori asked.

He squished the blonde's cheeks and gently tilted him downward to make eye contact. For a brief moment, Deidara saw a tint of worry in his partner's eyes, something small and often hidden away, but lingering nonetheless. He bit his lip; no use lying to Sasori--the man could sniff out a phib a mile away. He inhaled deeply--he'd just have to come clean.

"Look, hn," He started, "Granny Chiyo mentioned something about being her son-in-law and, well, hn, I didn't..."

"You think I've talked to her about proposing to you?"

Deidara suddenly felt his heart deflated; Sasori's tone sounded doubtful, rejective, and almost...disappointed. Like he couldn't even fathom the idea. In an instance, Deidara pulled himself from Sasori's touch, slender fingers letting go so they could turn, sit, and face each other. Deidara felt the eyeliner on his water line start to itch as Sasori exhaled loudly.

"Deidara, you know how I feel about marriage..." He said solemnly.

 _'All too well, unfortunately.'_ Came the internal reply.

And it was true: Deidara knew that, ever since Sasori's parents died, he never had the desire to be married, nor have a family. And while Deidara himself tried his best to not care and be encouraging of the perspective, it had been a topic of heated discussion far too often than either artists ever wanted to admit. It tore Deidara apart at times, but he loved Sasori enough to have patience with the topic--they hadn't discussed it in months, actually. But now it was merely unavoidable.

"So, hn, why'd she call me that?" He asked, demanded.

Sasori shook his head, "Grandmother has been calling you that behind your back for _years._..it started after you graduated, actually...there's no need to give it much thought."

"But there is!" Deidara protested, "I mean, hn, where are we _going?_ With this? With _us?_ Are we just going to end up like Hidan and--"

"Their relationship is different than ours, dear. Besides, our love is meant to last for eternity. I promised to adore you and cherish you for _eternity,_ remember?"

Deidara could see the smallest flecks of tears in his lover's eyes, the redhead trying his best to maintain stern eye contact despite the visible break in his voice. So much as for subtlety. Softly, the younger artist reached forward and wiped a thumb across Sasori's left eyelid, a bit of iron-colored eyeshadow smudging off.

_'No tears, firecracker. You mustn't dirty your splendid face.'_

"Of course I remember, hn. How could I ever forget?"

He pulled Sasori's face closer and kissed his forehead, pausing for a second to admire how the afternoon sunlight bounced off their skin and hair. Chaotic. Charming. Compatible. How could they ever _not_ be together?

"Look," Sasori mumbled, "We don't need marriage to be together. It's all just a social construct, anyways. And I'm not ready for that--I still worship you and your grace and everything glorious about you, however. You're mine for _eternity,_ regardless of other constituents. Right?"

"Of course, Sas," Deidara soothed, "Just...hn, just tell me you won't shut off the idea forever. Hn, I--I can't see another person besides you as my muse."

Sasori started off and snorted, "Damn straight you wouldn't find another muse like me."

"Not even if I tried?"

"Not even if you spent the rest of your life searching."

Deidara grinned and hooked an arm around his partner, "Fine by me, my man! Hn, it seems I'll just have to be _spontaneous_ when you least expect it."

"Oh, absolutely not." Sasori stated, eyes widening.

Deidara burst out a laugh and pulled him in for a kiss; he could wait. Despite the lure of spontaneity, of fleeting moments and explosive surprises, he could wait. Because, unlike everything else that was glorious in life, Sasori was worth it.

"So, you said you had plans for tonight...wine-tasting, I hope."

"Yep, hn, I picked a place two blocks from our flat, that way I can carry you back after your third glass without too much hassle."

"...you're such an utter, unconditionally _unyielding_ brat."

"And you love me for that!"

Yes, absolutely worth it.


	6. February 27: Adoration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mature sexual content and a reference to hot wax play
> 
> Also, as an aside, I just kinda caved and made Sasori a little more human in this because time is of the essence and puppet-sex was one thing too many to fully grasp this week.

It had started because they was bored.

Because he needed a distraction from other pains and from his work.

Because he was impatient and needed something to prove.

It had started after meetings, after long argument and had become a fond passtime on dreary days when they were both in need of some comfort and entertainment. And that's what Sasori always told himself, anyways. It had started on a whim, just like his partner probably wanted. 

"Dei, can you hold still? Your jawline looks _gorgeous_ in this light."

They sat in his--well, _their_ \--studio, Deidara sitting nude on a stool while Sasori perched at his workbench, charcoal and sketchpad in hand. Their had taken most of their time this week, meaning today was one of their off-times; they vowed to make whatever they could of it.

"How's this?" Deidara suggested, arching his back and flexing his arms, "Hn, you can't tell me that this isn't the most beautiful thing you've ever seen."

The puppet-man's eyes quickly scanned him, like a man entrap by a museum painting's sheer allure of splendor. Truly, though he'd refuse to say so, Deidara was special. Splendid. Stupendous. All these things and more. But he would never say so; the blonde's ego was already big enough as it was.

 _'My atomic blonde, you have no sense of modesty, as you shouldn't.'_ Sasori mused.

"I don't know, dear, I myself have lived a fairly long time--true beauty is built to last, so I can't quite say."

Deidara scrunched up his face, "Well, what the Hell is that supposed to mean? Hn, are you saying that _I'm_ not absolute perfection in your eyes?"

Sasori met the snarky comment with an eye roll and a chuckle. Let him believe what he wanted; Deidara and him may be at constant odds over ideals, but the blonde knew damn well that Sasori no Danna saw worth in him. More than he'd ever fully articulate, to be sure, but unbound worth, nonetheless. They sat in comfortable silence, Deidara daydreaming out the open window while Sasori scribbled away, taking extra care to dote over his partner's face, doing his best to capture the faintest traces of baby fat still in the younger artist's cheeks.

Deidara--per Sasori's request--had worn his hair down, the waves of blonde tumbling all the way down his back and gracing his hips with such goldeness that it took every ounce of self-control for the puppet-man to not lick his lips. Of course Deidara was beautiful. He was immaculate, alluring, and out of reach all at the same time. He was more than a muse--he was a fire that Sasori wanted to alight the world with.

"Hey, Danna, you getting bored, hn?"

Sasori fingers froze, his pencil just hovering over the thick, black lines of Deidara's eyeliner. The younger artist didn't make any move to look at him, but he could tell just from the oil in his voice that something was definitely on his mind. 

"Absolutely not," Was the innocent reply, "Why, are you?"

He smirked as he watched his partner's shoulder slump, the mouths on his hands growling in defeat. Then, a smug look still plastered to his face, Sasori slid out of his work bench and glided over to his partner, the younger artist doing his best to ignore him. 

"Well, Dei, you've got my attention; are you ready to stop acting like a man-child and let me finish my drawing?" he cooed, "I just got some new watercolors and I _desperately_ want to give them a try."

He traced a finger up his partner's right leg, slowing past the knee and rubbing the dip in his hip as the other hand propped itself against Deidara's thigh muscle. It didn't go unnoticed (by both of them) the hum of approval the younger artist made, fierce eyes watching intently as Sasori's bony hands soon slid up to his pelvis. Deidara relaxed his shoulders and sighed, his partner hooking a thumb right between his base and hip socket.

"Hn, desperate much?"

"Don't even start with me--I could just stop, if you'd like."

"Nah, hn, I'm good."

Sasori snorted and dragged his hands across Deidara's skin, goosebumps rising immediately as he moved over his hip bone and laced his fingers by the nape of his lover's back. Meanwhile, Deidara was working Sasori's shirt off, yanking at the fabric while his free hand settled on the older artist's Adam’s Apple, the stray mouth sucking lightly. 

"You know, this would be a wonderful opportunity to prep yourself for some sculpting..." Sasori murmed, his head leant against his partner's chest.

"Hn, of course, but why not live in the moment?" Deidara replied.

He titled his partner's chin and kissed him, their mouths already hot and wet as pushed against each other with more force; Deidara's hands did away with the puppet-man's shirt and tossed it haphazardly aside, nipping and licking as their owner's tan skin contrasted against porcelain features. This was what Sasori really enjoyed--sure, the chance to create and compete with Deidara was almost too tantalizing to turn down, but why collaborate from a distance when they could make much more _immaculate_ work as one body?

_'Because that's what he is...irritating. Infuriating. Immaculate.'_

"Why live in the moment when we can just pick this up in a few minutes?" Sasori hummed, "I finish my sketch and then you get to play with your silly globs of clay. We both win, either way."

Deidara paused and leered down, "I thought you _hated_ to wait."

Before he could stop himself, Sasori's eyes spread wide with absolute delight. Deidara had no chance; he came close and kissed him, shoving in as much passion and power as he could into his partner's mouth, wiry fingers diving deep among waves of blonde hair as they clumsily shifted off the stool and tumbled to the floor. 

"You want impatience?" Sasri huffed, "Then, let me show you just how rare of a thing of beauty you actually are."

"Oh, that's _real_ cute. Hn, just really cringy, actually, Sas." Deidara smirked; he climbed up into his partner's lap, the smaller artist already tugging off his own pants.

"Hey, don't be a brat; this is passion from a moment's notice."

"Hah! And thus is my dick upon your lap, hn! How's that sound, my man?"

Sasori snorted, "And you have the gall to call _me_ cringy. We could have prepared better for this...we still have those scented candles..."

"Aw, we can just use those another time!" Deidara countered, "Seriously, Sas, it's alright."

 _'It was. no, it is. You said you didn't want to wait any longer, anyhow.'_ Sasori convinced himself.

They stayed on the floor for a while, kissing and grinding absently-minded while the outside light morphed from oranges and burgundy to a twilight-like turquoise. Despite the amount of times they'd done this, Sasori could help but stare awestruck. Yes, Deidara always referred to him as superior in form, but Sasori could never get over how much he _adored_ the little, blonde terrorist. He was brash, but he was supportive. He was combative but feisty. He was a treasure and a travesty all in one and such...such _vitality_ stirred whatever remains of humanity Sasori still had within himself. 

"Danna, hn...you wanna try the wax?"

Sasori's thoughts instantly switched to how hot it had already gotten in his studio, the room smelling of sweat and precum--Deidara was already leaking over him, rubbing his own shaft once Sasori had gotten distracted. The red head frowned; poor thing probably thought he wasn't doing enough.

"Are you sure?" he asked breathily, "I mean...I mean..."

"Hn, it's your call," Deidara grunted, "So, y'know..."

Without warning he bucked slightly, trying to steady himself as slid into his partner, the smaller artist seeing constellations and galaxies as his eyes rolled back into his head. To be touched was an intimacy that was spotty at best for Sasori, and while Deidara was always surprisingly understanding, it nevertheless caused bumps in their sexual life. Mere distractions, really, but Sasori was always too proud to really cater to himself. Hence, the discovery of wax play--once, when they had been a little _too_ rambunctious, they had knocked over a table and some candles in their studio, the hot wax giving Sasori still to this day one of the sharpest feelings of stimulation could recall in his perfected form.

_'No, he's more than what you'll ever need. Give him what he's worth.'_

Sasori hitched, his partner fully in and propping himself against the wall behind them with an elbow. Without hesitation, Sasori grabbed one of Deidara's wrists and pushed his hand against his pelvis, the mouth already drooling with glee.

He shook his head, "We're fine; get some p-practice now so you can finish your little...ah, pet project once we're..."

Before he could stop himself, A moan escaped his lips; Deidara's hand flew up, it's mouth connected and trapping the puppet-man in a slobbery kiss. His partner then began to layer lovebites across his pristine body, moving slowly over bends and dips like a paintbrush over parchment paper.

"Oh, Sas, my man...y-you are the only project on...on my mind." Deidara leered.

His fingers then danced across Sasori's body: they slid down his neck, feeling thin shoulders blades and ribs while their tongues dragged themselves across every square inch of exposed skin. They gripped at his hips, crossed between his legs, and explored every nook and cranny they could feast upon. So they stayed, Sasori twitching as if controlled by his own strings while Deidara continued to move within him at a ragged and unsteady pace. 

"D-done...oh, damn...done studying?" Sasori groaned.

Deidara crumbled slightly, exhaustion seeping into both of them; he leaned his forehead into Sasori's collarbone, his lips millimeters from the older artist's ear.

"You...you know well as fuck...I will _never_ be satisfied." He growled.

And Sasori's heart was once again on fire.

Before they could stop themselves, they were spewing all over each other; Deidara came first, hot and bothered and leaving a trail of white as he retracted. After a few more minutes of fingers and arguably aggressive kissing, Sasori came next, his partner making an exaggerated show of dodging out of the way. Sasori glared; he could kick him, sometimes. 

"And you say I'm the neat freak." He tsked.

"Bitch, hn, I _refuse_ to get that in my hair!" Deidara wheezed, "Of course I'm going to dodge it. Gross."

"Darling I'm anything but gross. And you are _well_ aware of that."

Deidara rolled his eyes and, without warning, flopped his weight into Sasori's chest, earning him a small gasp and a quick hair pull.

"You know I adore you, hn. Like, you know that, right?"

He was staring at Sasori but not quite, wild eyes and mascara-smudged lids gazing off into a world which the redhead had only visited with him a few times before. He smiled and tilted his partner's chin up, weaving a hand through Deidara's thick bangs and picking at a stray scab.

 _'Irritating. Immaculate. Irreplaceable, as all valuable art is.'_ Sasori thought.

"And you know I adore you, right?"

Deidara smirked, "Damn straight you do, hn!"

Sasori frowned and squished his cheeks, earning an indignant squawk and a quick nip from one of his hands.

"Come on Dei, you got a sculpture to dedicate to me."

“You’re such an attention whore, hn. An absolute _hoe_ for attention.”

Try as he might, Sasori couldn't hide the smile he felt growing on his own face; Deidara kissed his forehead, dragging them both to their feet for a tight embrace, fingers dancing across tan and porcelain skin as the outside no evolved into purplish night. Yes, it had all started on a whim, but it had started with a purpose.

It had started because Sasori no Danna adored his muse. Nothing more, nothing less.


	7. February 28: A Mad Artist (in the Kitchen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to everyone came by and checked out my content for this event! Sasori and Deidara are such intriguing characters, so I had a wonderful time exploring them this week.

"Oh my God, Danna, what are you doing?"

"Um, preheating the oven?"

"With your _welding_ _torch?!"_

"Well, what else am I supposed to use? We can't preheat the oven like normal people after  _ somebody  _ blew it up last weekend making pot brownies!"

Deidara and Sasori stood in the Ame base's kitchen, the two artists engaged in a tug-o-war over a recipe sheet. It had been a rather slow month for assignments, so the duo had decided to invest their creative talents elsewhere: the kitchen. At first, things had gone rather smoothly; grocery runs were becoming the highlight of their week lately, as nobody else was available. Itachi and Kisame were more than happy to let the two artists take over meal prepping duties, with all their last-minute missions to Konoha taking most of their priority. So, Sasori and Deidara had taken over cooking, and the pair had actually done well for the team, earning less and less complaints and more and more requests as the calendar chugged on. However, their joint success seemed to be rather short-lived...

"Dei, where'd you put the butter?" Sasori asked, "I had the right amount sitting in the fridge since last night, so nobody could have used it yet."

"Out, hn." He replied, digging through the cabinets for utensils.

Sasori scrunched up his face, "Come again?"

"Out. Like, hn, I already took it out awhile ago."

With a clatter, Deidara laid out a handful of baking trays and wax paper rolls, brushing crumbs off the counter island while his hand licked up any strays. For today, they had agreed on baking some sugar cookies, using some whatever leftover citrus they could find for an extra kick. So far, baking had never been a desire, but the duo soon became bored with cooking, insisting to the rest of the organization that a few baked goods around the base was the least of the Akatsuki's concerns. However, baking had proved to be a severe deficit; between Sasori's unbound need to go off-recipe and Deidara's general disregard for the concept of patience, the pair found themselves constantly butting heads and racking up grocery expenses.

"Define 'awhile ago', please." Sasori retorted, swiping the stirring whisk from his partner's hands.

"I dunno! Hn, like, an hour ago? Come on, Danna, we're taking too long with the other ingredients!" Deidara snapped.

"Well, can you at least tell me where you hid the damn thing?"

"Hmpf! Like you could even reach it!"

Sasori growled something under his breath and shuffled back over to the fridge, grabbing a bowl of oranges, lemons, and limes that Konan had bought earlier in the week. Without hesitation, he flicked out one of his shoulder blades and began to rapid-slice the fruit, the air suddenly reeking of strong citrus and steel. Deidara took a sniff, his face contorting in disgust.

"Sas, my man, what are you doing?" He groaned, "We only need one teaspoon of lemon--not the whole damn citrus section!"

"Shut it, brat, I can never taste anything," Sasori replied, "Besides, you said you wanted a kick, right? Well,  _ here's _ your kick."

"Yeah, hn, just a kick--not explosive diarrhea!"

"And here I was thinking 'explosive' was one of your  _ better _ qualities..."

The two continued to bicker, Sasori dicing citrus at a wicked pace while Deidara finally found the butter, the substance all sludge-like after spending a majority of the afternoon pushed on top of the fridge. Like a madman, he dumped in each measured bowl of flour, salt, and sunflower oil (because Zetsu had banned canola on the premise that it was harvested detrimentally), sending food bits all over his kitchen smock and even into his hair. Meanwhile, Sasori flew through his chore, moving onto the eggs and citrus juicing. But before he could grab out of the fridge their egg carton, Deidara spun around and slammed the door closed with his heel.

"What the Hell, Dei?" Sasori snapped.

Deidara's hand stuck a tongue out, "Nuh-uh, man. You go overboard and people, hn, are going to  _ vomit _ when they try our masterpiece. Hurry up with the lemon juice, will you?"

"Oh, no, you don't get to lecture when all you do is rush, rush, rush," Sasori countered, "Baking requires patience. And you, Deidara, are severely lacking."

"Hn, bitch." Deidara snarked.

Sasori yanked the mixing bowl away from him, "Well, aren't you just all sugar and spice today, hm?"

" Hn, well aren't  _ you _ all sarcasm and...oh."

"No, go on, tell me what rhymes with  _ sarcasm _ and I'll stop acting like an asshole."

Deidara glared and snatched the bowl back while Sasori stood, arms crossed smugly. For a while, they continued on in bitter silence, snatching baking utensils and ingredients from each other when they least expected it, the tension simmering further and further to its maximum. So far, the kitchen was a mess: batter splattered across the counters, wayward ingredients strewn across the room, and an unsettling amount of Sasori's workshop tools heating their broken oven. One time, Tobi wandered in for a snack, but the two artists vehemently shooed him away, the poor man practically running for his life as Deidara threatened to stuff with with dynamite.

After another quarter of an hour, Sasori broke out a set of cookie cutters, earning himself a bemused look from his partner.

"Hn, you're joking. Since when are  _ you _ fun?"

"I'm quite entertaining, thank you; besides, I stole these from Orochimaru ages ago."

Deidara picked on up and cautiously examined it, the teeth in his hands trying to snap at it, "You sure there isn't any, like, poison or snake guts dried onto these?'

"Well, he'd use them for his sunny-side eggs, so your guess is as good as mine." Sasori replied.

He took a star-shaped one and pressed it into the vast amount of dough Deidara had rolled out; the batter refused to budge, crunching under the force the puppet-man was generously applied. After a few tries, he stopped and scratched his head, Deidara floating over to his side to take a try. No such luck.

"Huh, now why would that be?" Sasori mumbled, "We measured the baking soda--well I mean I added  _ a little _ extra to increase its consistency..."

Deidara poked a finger into the cement-like dough, "Goddammit, hn, Danna. And you yell at  _ me _ for being a trainwreck in the kitchen!"

"Hey, you're the moron who's just been throwing in ingredients like a witch in a tizzy--who's to say this isn't  _ your _ fault, eh?"

With a grunt, Sasori jammed the cookie cutter into the dough, bits and pieces shooting off like sugary projectiles. Unfortunately, they had used up all their ingredients, so a revision batch was out of the question; if they wanted their cookies, the two artists were going to have to deal with the consequences.

"Okay, hn, lemme try." Deidara said; he grabbed a heart-shaped cookie mold and tried to stamp through the batter...a dent, but nothing more.

Sasori nodded along and turned back to his station, "You keep working on that, while I finish with the citrus zesting. Maybe we can salvage this."

"We're going to give everyone food poisoning, hn. This is going to just  _ ruin _ our reputation." Deidara mumbled.

They resumed their work: Sasori finished shaving lemon and orange peels just when Deidara managed to break off four crude chunks of fun-shaped dough portions. Since the batter was rock-hard without even being in the oven yet, Deidara argued that a quicker time would do just as well, while Sasori fought for something completely void of their original instructions. Finally, the two artists agreed for seven minutes on high--why could go wrong?

Deidara slapped on a pair of oven mitts, cringing as his hands ate at the cotton fabric, "Alright, hn. Let's do this, my man."

"We should be fine, since we amped the heat up while cutting the time," Sasori agreed, "So really, this should be a piece of cake."

With that, Deidara shoved the tray of atrocities into the oven; Sasori fired up his welding torch once more and snapped his face shield back on, the flames flickering blue and white. So they stood, Sasori bent over the oven and fanning its open mouth with flames while Deidara re-tied his hair into a messy bun. At first glance, it seemed that their plan had worked; the cookies were beginning to rise and an undeniable smell of lemon and sugar wafted from the stove.

"See, a torch is just as good as an actual fire; that saves us on utility bills, at least." Sasori hummed.

Deidara rolled his and inspected his nails, "Hn, you sound just like Kakuzu. Not very original of you, I must say."

"Whatever--we haven't even set off the the smoke detector, so I'd call this a successful--"

**_BEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEEEEP!_ **

"--project. Son of a bitch."

Sasori fumbled to turn off his welding torch while Deidara shrieked in dismay, the poor blonde frantically searching over the kitchen fire extinguisher.

"Oh my  _ gawd, _ Danna! What do we do?!"

"Quit screaming, that's for sure! Where's the fire extinguisher?"

**_BEEP! BEEEP! BEEEEEEP!_ **

Deidara dug through the food cabinet, "I dunno! Hn, last time I used it was two nights ago when I set the dining table on fire!"

"You probably used it all up, idiot! Wow, when the Hell did  _ that _ happen?" Sasori replied.

Before either could react, smoking began blustering from the not-flaming cookies, the room blanketed in fruity smog. Sasori dug a bundle of dish towels from a drawer, fanning away the smoke as fast as his wooden arms could move. Meanwhile, Deidara abandoned his search and instead began a perilous quest to find something to put the fire out with--his eyes landed on the soy milk Zetsu had just bought. The blonde grimace; the poor man hadn't even opened it yet.

**_BEEEP! BEEEEEP! BEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEEEP!_ **

"Sasori! Watch out!"

With a battlecry of a yell, Deidara's hand chewed off the milk's cap, sending the liquid cascading all over the fiery dessert, drenching both him and Saori in the process. For a moment, all quieted, the two artists staring dumbfounded at the mess they had created.Then, after what felt like an eternity, they both stole a glance into the oven, or what was left of it, anyways.

Deidara let out a low whistle, "Jeez, we made a masterpiece....hn, it wasn't an explosion, but that was pretty damn  _ sick _ , if you ask me."

"Honestly, I don't even know how else to respond." Saori said, distracted.

It was only then that they recognized the footsteps coming their way.

"Guys, what the  _ Hell _ is going on here? The sprinklers were going off and....oh, shit."

Kisame stood in the doorway, Itachi peeking from behind. The two artists looked at them, the smoldering oven, and then back at each other. Sheepishly, Deidara jutted a thumb at the now-soaked recipe sheet on the island counter.

"We were  _ trying _ to make lemon cookies and well, hn, it didn't really work out..."

"In our defence, we asked Leader to get the oven fixed at least a few days ago." Sasori added, making no move to hide his blowtorch.

Kisame's mouth flopped open and closed like a fish, but before he could get anything out, Itachi groaned and took the drippy list from Deidara's hands.

"Seems we can't trust you with cooking anymore." He mumbled.

"I second that."

Pein had appeared behind Kisame, startling the group; Deidara and Sasori exchanged another look of dismay.

"After you two clean this up, I believe you own Zetsu a trip to the grocery store..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy SasoDei Week once more; I hope all my SasoDei mods and fans enjoyed the week's work. As always, comments and constructive criticism are much appreciated!
> 
> P.S~ Also, yeah, if you eat too much citrus, you can get diarrhea. My roommate is a Nursing student and a chaotic baker...I cite her as source material for this one.


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